


guiltless

by sepiapages



Series: chase and schneep are a mess [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Comatose Jack, Guilt, Mentions of Death, sad angry friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiapages/pseuds/sepiapages
Summary: Guilt and stubbornness come to a boiling point.
Series: chase and schneep are a mess [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701655
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	guiltless

“You know you can use the guest bedroom, right?” Henrik raised an eyebrow at his sluggish friend, just a lump on the couch, covered in blankets. “It’s what it’s for. And I want my couch back.”

Chase just grunted back at him and shifted in his cocoon. The light of his phone cast a cold blue glow over his corner, his hands, and what little Henrik could see of his face.

“At least come eat dinner,” Henrik pleaded. He had boiled pasta enough for the both of them, and even bought alfredo sauce so that Chase could mix it with tomato sauce as he liked it. Henrik rolled the glass jar on the counter to make a noise and told his friend so. “Come on.”

A moment passed. Chase’s phone light blinked off. Still, he didn’t move. 

A sigh. “Fine. You can eat cold pasta for all I care. Just clean it up, tupperware it, whatever. I’m going to bed. You are  _ welcome  _ to the  _ guest bedroom,”  _ Henrik stressed. With no further response, he put a lid on the pot, put the sauces in the refrigerator and headed toward his bedroom.

He paused at the doorway to the hallway. He turned back to Chase and said quietly, “If I find that you haven’t eaten, I’m not gonna be happy. Eat something. Get it together.” Then he turned, walked into his own room, and shut the door.

Chase sat quietly, frozen in the dim room. The only light came from the kitchen. 

The noises from Henrik’s room finally stopped. Chase’s stomach growled. Chase groaned. He allowed himself to stretch enough to put his phone on the coffee table, but quickly tucked his arms back under the blankets. 

Sure, the couch wasn’t that comfortable, and it was kind of creepy to be sleeping near the front window and door that could let a stranger in at any moment. But Chase would not concede to essentially moving in with the older man. He would  _ not  _ allow it to appear that he had accepted Henrik’s choices. 

In truth, he was exhausted. Sleep did not come easy. Whether that was due to the stiff couch and creep factor of the living room, or if it was something deeper, Chase didn’t want to think too hard about it. (There were also the nightmares, but again, Chase pushed the thought away.) 

A painful growl from his stomach jerked him from his thoughts. The smell of the pasta had dissipated, but the memory was enough to elicit another twinge of hunger. 

Chase turned and buried his face into the pillow, letting out a long groan. He huffed. “Fine.” He rolled haphazardly off the couch, nearly hitting his face on the coffee table, and dragged himself into the kitchen. A blanket came too. 

Making his bowl took embarrassingly long. He kept spacing out and having to verbally remind himself what exactly the next step was. Finally, he sat down at the island countertop and shoveled a mix of penne, alfredo and tomato sauce, and parmesan cheese into his face. 

While the meal quieted his stomach, it just removed another distraction from his mind. Anxiety swirled and tugged at him as he chewed.  _ Please don’t,  _ he begged himself.  _ Please. Just leave it alone.  _

A flash of a face. Beeping noises. Henrik standing in the doorway, holding his things. A cold wind. Static interference. Another face. A glint of silver.

Chase nearly shoved a fork-full down his windpipe. He coughed and choked and threw the fork down with a clatter. He winced at the noise he was making and glanced at the clock. 10:30. Not bad, but not great either. 

There was still a long way to go. 

He slowly stopped coughing, finished his meal, put the remains away, and returned to the couch. All the while, he kept his thoughts trained very specifically on each task.  _ Pick up the bowl. Scrape it out. Rinse the bowl. Put the dishes in the dishwasher. Scrape the remains into a tupperware. Seal it. Put it in the fridge. Put the toppings in the fridge. Rinse the pot and strainer. Turn off the light. Walk back to the couch. Wrap the blankets properly. Sit. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. _

A sharp pain snapped his attention to his hands. He had been pinching and picking at his left hand. Small bruises already appeared in faint color.

Chase took a deep breath. He shook and the breath rattled in and out. 

“Get it together,” he hissed. He clenched his fists, no doubt increasing the bruises, but he couldn’t care. “You’re supposed to be proving you can go back. You’re supposed to be  _ capable.  _ God, fuck, you did this when you were a teenager. You can do it fucking  _ now.”  _ A stray tear pooled in his eye. His fists clenched harder. He blinked away the tears and rocked back and forth. “Come on, Chase. Come on. Come on.” 

He shivered. He had to release his fists when they started to ache. His jaw hurt, too. His whole body cried in pain and begged for rest. 

He shook his head and grabbed his phone. His finger hovered over Twitter. No doubt millions of people were concerned at the absence of content on the channel and other accounts. He bit his lip.  _ It’s not my fault. Fucking Henrik, he… he thinks he’s my dad. He thinks he knows what I need. Thinks he can tell me what to do.  _

His head pulsed in a headache. The bright screen in the darkness did not help. Instead, he opened Spotify, jammed his headphones in, lay back and listened to the first melancholy playlist he could find. 

Time slipped by. He must have dozed, at least, but when he checked the time, it was barely midnight. He groaned. 

His neck was stiff and his throat was dry. He rolled his head to glance at the kitchen, now dark and empty. Water. He could get a glass of water at the very least. He’s not a child. 

The blanket came with him again, dragging on the floor in a way that would not make Henrik very happy. Chase felt a stupid twinge of childish pride at the dirty laundry. Still, he wrapped it tighter and reached for the cupboard. The plastic cups and ceramic mugs stared at him on the bottom shelves, but the glint of the pretty glasses at the top called to him. He reached for them. 

They were packed fairly tightly. Henrik had quite the collection of glasses in many different shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, this meant they made a horrendous clattering and clinking when he tried to pull one free. He had to reach up with his other hand to steady the other glasses and keep them from falling out. The blanket fell from his shoulders. He went to reach for it and set his chosen glass down, but the movement combined into a loud  _ clunk  _ on the countertop. Chase almost worried if the glass was chipped. 

He sighed, fixed his blanket, closed the cabinets, and started filling his glass. 

A door opened. Footsteps thudded down the hall. Suddenly, Henrik was in the entrance with wild hair, red marks on his face, and a shrewd look. 

“Chase, what the hell do you--?” he started, uncomfortably loud in the silence of the midnight house. But he stopped. “Oh.” His hands dropped as he looked over the counter and Chase’s hands. 

Chase nearly jumped a foot when Henrik stormed in and snapped. He kept his grip on the glass, but spilled a generous amount of water all over the counter and his arm. 

“Wh-- What the fuck? What?!” Chase tried to sound strong, but he was cold and wet and tired and scared, so he shook and his knees nearly buckled as he stared his housemate down. 

“I… I thought… Henrik started, trailing off. Then he shook his head. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it and his face reddened. “I’m sorry.” 

The adrenaline still ran all through Chase. He stuttered and put the glass down. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it closed. “God, what the fuck? You scared the shit out of me! Jesus… Look, I’m sorry! The glass is fine, look!” He gestured to the cup. “I didn’t chip it. It’s fine. I was just getting a goddamn glass of water.” He shuddered, balled his fists in the blanket, and his gaze fell to the floor as he quieted. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just thought…” Henrik hesitated, clearly at war with himself. Then, quietly: “I thought you’d found a… a  _ drink.  _ And I could’ve sworn I’d put it all away… I thought…” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Chase barely registered the comment, and yet he knew exactly what Henrik had just said. A familiar taste flitted across the back of his tongue, just a memory, but clear enough to cause his stomach to drop. He swallowed. 

Slowly, his conscious thoughts caught up with the moment. He glared at the floor. “Yeah, no, you took all that away as soon as I got here. I’m sober,  _ sir,”  _ he practically spat. 

Henrik winced. “Don’t act like a child. You know why.”

“Yeah, I get it, I’m a danger to myself. I’m throwing my life away. I’m a mess and a goddamn embarrassment. I  _ get  _ it,” Chase retorted, casting his glare into Henrik’s eyes. “What’s next, you gonna sign me up for AA? Are you gonna be my sponsor?” Chase clenched his fists again, knuckles starting to scream. “Hell, you gonna stand with Stacy and say I’m unfit to see my kids? I’m just a stupid drunk who can’t do anything right?” 

“That’s  _ enough.”  _ Henrik stomped his foot. “It’s twelve fucking a.m. and I am not talking to you like this. Get your water, then you’re going to sleep in the guest bedroom.” 

Chase shifted his weight impatiently. “Fine! We’ll just shelf this like every other conversation! Just like you did about Jack! I don’t get a say, I’m just too drunk and stupid and I’m ruining everything, aren’t I? No, you’re the smart one.  _ You  _ get to make all the decisions because you have a fucking doctorate. Guess that means you’re more important, huh?” 

“Chase!” Henrik snapped. “I said enough!”

“No!” Chase cried back, dropping the blanket to jab his finger into Henrik’s chest. “I was actually  _ trying to do something!  _ I was keeping the channel up and running until  _ you  _ came and interfered! What are you gonna tell Jack, that you did nothing? That you gave up on him and wanted to drag us all down with you? You haven’t done  _ shit,  _ Henrik! All you’ve done is make me feel more miserable than I already do! At least I  _ tried!  _ At least I never  _ gave up!” _

Henrik looked like he was about to burst at the seams. “Shut up! Shut the fuck  _ up,  _ Chase! You’re such a child!” He grabbed Chase’s blanket. "You think if you just tell yourself that everything is going to be okay that it’ll all work out! You think that getting drunk every day is okay if you get a fucking video up on the internet for a bunch of strangers to see and believe in a lie!” Henrik pulled at the blanket and Chase stumbled. “It’s over! The channel is going down. I can barely keep my job. The bills are piling up. This is just a horrible fucking nightmare that you want to keep us trapped in forever. We have to  _ let go.”  _

Henrik breathed heavily. His grip on the blankets slowly loosened. He blinked and reached up to feel a tear making its way down his cheek. 

A shuddered sob brought him back to look at Chase. The younger man looked even more like a child what with his blanket wrapped around him and his face all red and puffed up from crying. He whined, hiccuped, and buried his face in his hands. He sunk to the floor and sobbed. 

Henrik’s heart twisted. All the adrenaline drained from him in an instant and he felt his body wavering. He joined Chase to sit on the floor only half because of his concern for his friend. 

Chase’s muffled sobs sounded clearly in the silence of the kitchen. “It’s a-all my f-fault,” he cried. “I should’ve be-en there… I could’ve stopped h-him…” He shivered and collapsed into tears again.

Henrik hesitated. He’d just berated his friend about wanting to save their friend, and Chase blamed himself for the attack. Henrik was no psychologist, but he knew he was messing up big time, Chase needed help, and he had no idea what to do.

“Chase, I’m--”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare say you’re  _ sorry.”  _ Chase lifted his head and fixed Henrik with a cold glare. “This is not okay.” A suppressed sob jolted through him and he sharply inhaled. “You-you’re a fucking b-bully. And you’re giving u-up on our friend. You’re  _ killing our family.  _ And I…  _ I hate you.”  _

Henrik stared with wide eyes. Chase slowly lowered his head back down and continued to try to manage his wave of sobs. 

Henrik felt as if his lungs were filled with lead. He swallowed thickly, but he couldn’t breathe. He reached up for a hand-hold on the countertop and pulled himself up, wobbling. His mind raced.  _ Chase. Jack. Bills. Guilt. Death. Walls. Trapped. Hate. Hate. Hate.  _

The doctor squeezed his eyes shut and rushed to the front door. He fumbled with the locks, finally throwing the door open and his body violently shivering at the flood of cold air. He leaned into the wind and slammed the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this to turn into a smut fic but by the time I got to their argument, I was rolling in their angst and it just felt inappropriate to make them fuck so I'll save that for another attempt. 
> 
> ALSO watch out for a part 2 of the adventure. maybe. hopefully in less than a year this time.


End file.
